Sunday, 14 October 2012

How disagreeable this will be to the world! The two things that bring us together most! Grilled cheese and XFactor. Chocolate Pudding and Homeland. What a noble people we are!

I hate how I fluctuate. There is no guilt like that of the sick, who must constantly check themselves.

God all of the work I put in. All of the mental energy to puch myself, all of the times I believed it would pay of, it would be worth it. To think it was all lies! how quickly now has come, did I already know it was a lie?

My dad said what I knew he would say.

What am I to do now? It makes no sense that I have no time and then have so much time what am I to do with this time! do i try and retrieve everything?

I instinctually try and occupy myself with what needs to be done, but does it STILL need to be done?

OOHHH but now I feel so hungry. and I can not present myself to my father! he would be so confused. 'What is wrong' he would say

Sunday, 7 October 2012

I get scaredd really really scared when I have assignments due. Anxiety and all that if I think about it my breathing gets tough and I can feel everything encroaching on me phsycially like a slow wash of tension flooding over me. So I run away from the thought. How does anyboy does this it is so terrifying when everything seems to be a vital building block in a giant tower of Jenga and if you mess it up everything will come tumbling down and you will never be able to build it up again.

Step 1: I have to hang on to what I know is good. I have to admit that I am not going to get this essay done. I am going to hand it in late. Again. I have to admit that and be calm with that... I have just said that to my webcam. Is that enough? I am going to breath for a while and repeat these thoughts:L
1. the late penalty will marginally affect my assignment.2. the extra time will mean I can sleep tonight (i cross this out, it really is of no comfort)
3. the extra time means I will write a great assignment.
4. who cares if anybody else disapproves. people do things their own way to their own capabilities, and no other motherfucker had to contend with working 16 hours over the last week, a migraine, reciting rape trauma, and working on an extra university paper.
5. and, so as to not digress from the last point, this is the right thing for me, myself to do right now.

And after doing this, I am hopeful that I feel no shame

Step 2: I have to list what I need to do. I am trying to allocate time. I am trying to colour code. I am trying not to panic.

I do not mean in a melodramatic Lucretian way, I mean that mentally, suicide begins to shed its skin of inappropriate wrongness, disgrace, shame and tragedy. It emerges a neutral specimen of unoffensive cool blue to a soundtrack of the XX. It sits just behind you. The more futile your work seems the more you turn around to look at it, and the louder the music becomes.

Fuck you suicide. Fuck you for not being available to me. You are a lie that I cant stop being told to me, that I cant stop hearing.

It sucks. If I listen to you long enough I become painfully split between your world and the 'real' one. It really hurts. You are irreconcilable.